


The Path of the Righteous Man

by tender_is_the_ghost



Series: Connor and Tracy [3]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Connor MacManus - Fandom, Flandus - Fandom, Murphy MacManus - Fandom, Norman Reedus - Fandom, Sean Patrick Flanery - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Doggy Style, Drama, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love, POV Second Person, Sex, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost





	The Path of the Righteous Man

 

The kitchen is filled with the voices of the men in your life, each of them competing to be heard over the other as they heatedly rehash the events of the football match they watched earlier. The conversation has been raging for at least three hours by your count and you mentally roll your eyes as you wipe the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and finish dishing up dinner onto the row of plates balanced in front of you. Connor appears unbidden at your elbow and you glance gratefully at him as he takes two of the plates, winking at you as he bumps his hip against yours before turning back to the table. Murphy takes his place and you ladle an extra spoonful of the rich stew you’ve created onto his plate, raising a finger to your lips as he gives you a whispered ‘thank you’. With the only plate left your own, you carry it to the table and sit down next to Connor, taking his hand and bowing your head while your Da says Grace from his position at the head of the table.

When he’s done the room fills with nothing but the blessed sounds of forks against plates and food being consumed, the subject of football forgotten for the time being as everyone fills their bellies. You can feel the heat from Connor’s thigh where its pressed against yours and you bask in the safe, contented feeling it gives you to have him at your side. He tears a hunk or bread from the fresh-baked loaf in the middle of the table and hands it to you, his skin skimming across yours as your hands touch. You turn your head to meet his gaze, eyes holding each other’s for a long moment before he gives you a smile that you know means trouble and sets his attention back on his food. You jump a little as his hand finds your knee under the table, giving it a little squeeze before the rough skin of his fingers trace their way up the inside of your thigh under the edge of your light summer dress, twirling in small circles that’s getting you flustered enough that you drop your fork against your plate with a resounding clang and find three other pairs of eyes suddenly shooting in your direction.

Blushing deeply, you clamp your thighs closed on Connor’s fingers, stilling his movements and you feel him chuckle inwardly next to you. As the conversation starts up again around the table, you marvel to yourself that he can still make you feel like a lovesick teenager even after all these years. With his plate cleared, Connor leans back in his seat with a contented sigh, freeing his hand to place it on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing warmly at your spine while you finish your meal. You let yourself relax, you’ve been working double shifts at the bar all week while Susan has been away on holiday and, while the extra cash will be nice, it’s pretty much worn you out. You’ve been coming home each day and practically falling into bed unable to give Connor anything more than just a cursory kiss before you pass out but now it’s Saturday and, after an extended lie-in that morning to recoup your strength you were ready for three whole days with nothing to do until you have to go back. You only wish you didn’t have to wait all night to be alone with Connor, you really want to make it up to him for falling asleep on him all week and the slow stroke of his thumb across your back right now is making you a little dizzy.

Almost as if he can read your mind, your Da suddenly stands up from the table, pushing back his chair with a screech and clears his throat as everybody looks his way.

“Grab your coats, fellers, I think we need to go get us a drink.”

“But,” protests Murphy, “I thought we were staying in, I wanted t-“

“Shut your hole and get yer fuckin’ coat,” says his Da, cuffing the back of his head as he gets up.

Murphy grumbles under his breath but gets up anyway and you slip out of your chair to follow him.

“Not you, Tracy-lass, looks like you’ve got some cleanin’ up to do around here,” your Da says, spreading an arm to encompass the full table and the pans in the sink. “Connor, be a man and help your woman out, alright?”

He claps Connor hard on the back and you feel yourself blushing furiously again as he drops you an exaggerated wink before steering the other two McManus men out of the door, Murphy’s complaining only cut off when the van door slams behind him and it roars out of the driveway leaving you and Connor standing in the suddenly silent kitchen staring at one another.

“Did your Da just..?” he asks with a smile.

“Aye,” you reply, “I think he just did.”

“Then we shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, my love,” says Connor, pulling you into his embrace and burying his face in your neck.

“Con, stop!” you tell him, wriggling out of his grip. “I still have to clear up. Just because he gave us a little alone time doesn’t mean he won’t still expect this place to be spotless when he gets home.”

Connor sighs, staring at you for a minute and you can see he’s torn but then he picks up the dirty dishes from the table and starts scraping the plates into the bin. Smiling, you run the water to start the washing up, knowing that a little anticipation can only enhance the end result. You work fast, Connor drying each plate as you hand it to him and stacking them neatly on the dresser until all you have left are the pans which you plunge into the hot water. Connor comes up behind you at the sink, slipping his hands low around your waist and kissing the back of your neck.

“C’mon, Tracy-love, it’s been almost a week, your man has needs ya know. The pans can wait.”

You nudge him back with your butt, telling him you have to just finish these last few things and flick water at him over your shoulder. Laughing, he turns you away from the sink, taking your soapy hands in his and pushing you up against the cool surface to kiss you hard, grinding against you. He pulls at the laces holding the front of your dress closed, loosening them and running his tongue along the edge of the scooped neckline until you’re shivering under him, your hands closing in his hair and you know you’ve lost the fight.

“Do ya still want to finish your chores, love?” he asks, kissing his way up your neck as his hands squeeze at your breasts though your dress.

You respond by pushing him back away from you, walking him backwards as you tug at his tshirt, pulling it up and over his head to toss it behind you. When he backs into the solid wood of the kitchen table, you press up against him, molding your body into his as you tease his lips with yours. You rub his length hard through his jeans making him groan into your mouth, pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth while his hands reach up to pull your hair from the loose ponytail its tied in and fist it around his knuckles. He only lets you tease him for so long before he slides his hands down to the bare skin of your upper arms and forces you back from him, your body protesting as you strain against him. You stare at him, the wild look in his eyes fuelling your lust as he catches his breath and you lick your lips, savoring the taste of him that remains there. You place your hands on your hips and cock your head at him, smiling as you dare him with your eyes to make the next move.

Connor reaches forward, grabbing your hands and pulling you back to him, turning as he does so to push you roughly against the table, bending you forward over its surface and lifting up the hem of your dress to tug at your panties. You wriggle as he tries to get them off, earning yourself a resounding smack on your bare cheek once he finally has them past your knees and falling to the floor. You raise yourself on your elbows, turning your head to his as he leans over your back to capture your lips with his in a feverish kiss. The heat from his bare skin burns through the thin cotton of your dress as he grinds against your body, one hand slipping up to grasp loosely around your throat as he deepens your kiss, the other pushing up under your dress to stroke furiously at your pussy. You whimper against his lips as his fingers invade you, rubbing and teasing your clit and then pushing inside of you, his thick knuckles making you squirm into his touch. There’s an urgency to his movements, a reflection of his desire that’s been building all week, you know that later there’ll be time for the slow, languid love-making that will last all night but for now it’s about nothing but pure lust, craving each other desperately.

“Tracy?” his voice is muffled against your lips but you can hear the strain in his voice.

“Do it, Connor,” you whisper back and feel his hand withdraw from underneath you, leaving you aching for more.

You hear his jeans being unzipped and pushed away before he raises your dress up over your back, giving your ass another playful slap as he does and you spread your feet as far as you can, arching back toward him. With a grunt, he guides himself inside you, pushing until his body is flush with yours and you can feel yourself pulsing around him as he holds there for what seems an eternity, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you can’t move. You need friction, need him to move, anything but this throbbing teasing that’s driving you insane. With a vicious squeeze of your muscles around his shaft, you spur him into sudden motion, his hips pulling back from you as he withdraws only to slam forward again until he’s pounding into you hard and fast. His fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, his mouth is like fire against the skin of your neck as he licks and nips at you in a frenzy that matches his wild movements below.

“C’mon, baby, c’mon…” he starts urging in your ear, his voice low and rough, “come for me, baby.”

One of his hands slips from your hip and reaches around to thrust against your clit, pulling and rolling it as he continues to thrust into you and your body just can’t take the added stimulation. With a high keening sound from deep in your chest your orgasm bursts from you, rocking your body as you convulse under him, squeezing tight around his cock and releasing him, milking him until he shouts your name and comes inside you, his body jerking behind you until he’s spent. Panting, he lays against your back, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight while you both come down.

“This time, Tracy-love,” he whispers in your ear, “this time.”

“Con, you’re squashing me,” you tell him after a few minutes, nudging him with an elbow and he rises off of you, pulling you up to turn you in his arms and give you a soft kiss.

“Mmm,” you murmur, pulling back to look into his eyes. “That was certainly worth the wait.”

“Aye lass, and give me a few minutes and I’ll show you how much I’ve been missing you all over again!”

“A few minutes, eh? I think you might be over-exaggerating your own abilities there, Connor McManus!” you tell him, tugging cheekily on the shaggy beard that’s covering most of his face. “Come on, let me finish cleaning up this mess and then we can see how ready you are for another round.”

You push him gently away from you, straightening your clothing and retrieving your panties from the floor as he tucks himself back into his jeans and you go back to scrubbing the pans in the sink, a wide smile splitting your face as you think about the hours to come.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

You wake late the next morning, your body slowly creeping into consciousness as you think about the night before, stretching deliciously under the sheets as memories of you and Connor fill your mind. You’re not surprised to find he’s already left for the day, you know he has work to do on his Da’s farm, but you roll over to find a sweet-smelling rose laying on his pillow and you smile as you bring it to your nose, delighting in the way your body feels sated and relaxed. You only get up when your Da yells at you from the bottom of the stairs, complaining that he had to get his own breakfast but he sure as hell isn’t getting his own lunch. You spend the rest of the day doing chores around the house and just taking time for yourself, surprised when you finally check the clock and see the afternoon is almost over and you haven’t heard from Connor. Usually you get at least one dirty text from him while he’s working but your inbox is empty. You shrug it off, thinking that he’s probably just too busy to stop and set about preparing the evening meal for you and your Da, knowing that Connor will be over later as soon as he’s free.

When the evening is over and your Da has wished you goodnight and gone to bed and you still haven’t heard anything, you try calling him only to get his voicemail. You leave a brief message, telling yourself that he’s forgotten to charge his phone again, it wouldn’t be the first time, but a small knot of concern has taken up residence in the pit of your stomach and you know it won’t go away until you hear from him. You turn in for the night but you’re just fitfully dozing and not really sleeping properly when you hear something outside and sit up. The sound comes again and you realize it’s somebody throwing gravel at your window and your heart beats faster in relief as you know there’s only one person it can be. Slipping on your dressing gown, you tear down the stairs, knowing your Da is dead to the world and unlock the front door, ready to give Connor a piece of your mind. The fire of your words turns to ashes on your tongue as you throw open the door to find him standing on your front step, wearing a black wool coat you’ve never seen on him before, his face clean-shaven and the hair he’s been growing long now roughly cropped against his head.

“Connor?” you ask, the blood running like ice in your veins as you catch sight of Murphy waiting beside the van behind him, nervously dragging on a cigarette as he watches the two of you intently.

“Tracy-love,” he says softly and as he steps closer to you, you can see the redness rimming his eyes and the bloodshot streaks clouding his vision. “I have to go.”

“Go?” you ask, mind reeling but you already know the answer, feared this day would come from the moment you fell in love with him. “Go where?”

“Back to Boston. Something’s happened. Murph n’ me need to get back there, I don’t have time to explain. We’re on our way to the docks now, there’s a cargo ship that leaves in a few hours.”

“When will you be back?” you say swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat.

His silence and the look in his eye gives you your answer. He doesn’t know if he’s coming back.

“Connor, no…” you reach out to him and he pulls you into his embrace, holding you so tight you’re struggling for breath but you don’t care, you just cling to him, burying your face in the rough wool of his coat.

Gently he eases you back from him, holding you by your shoulders as he takes one more look at your face then plants a soft kiss against your forehead, resting there a moment.

“Don’t wait for me,” he whispers hoarsely and then he’s gone, turning abruptly away from you and pacing across the yard where Murphy reaches a hand out to him as he passes but he brushes it aside to climb into the passenger seat. Murphy stares at you for a long moment, the anguish on his face clear in the moonlight, then nods his head and gets into the driver’s side of the van, stripping the gears as he always does before driving out of the yard.

You stand in the doorway, clutching your dressing gown tight around you, still feeling Connor’s touch on your body, his breath on your skin, then you slowly turn and go back inside. Locking the door behind you, you sink soundlessly to the floor, your back resting against the rough wood and there you stay until your Da comes down the stairs in the morning and finds you, cold and still, in the same position.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

“Are you sure this is where you want me to drop you, Miss?” asks the cab driver a little apprehensively, looking out of his windshield at the bar looming beside you in the bright sunshine. You take one last look at the address on the piece of paper crumpled in your hand and assure him that you’re in the right place and you’ll be fine. He shakes his head as you pay him then pulls away from the curb, leaving you standing in the early afternoon heat, your modest suitcase at your feet, as you steel your nerve before entering the bar. Pulling open the door releases a blast of air-conditioned coolness into your face and you welcome it after the stuffy cab ride from the airport, stepping inside the entryway and stopping to let your eyes adjust to the dim light of the interior. As the glare from outside fades, you take in the mostly empty room in front of you, just a few patrons scattered at various tables and then your eyes land on a familiar figure seated at the bar and you step forward just as he turns, his attention obviously drawn by the door opening.

“Tracy?! What the fuck..?” Murphy yells as he slides off the barstool and races across the room to scoop you up in an enormous bear hug, planting exuberant kisses on both your cheeks.

“Put me down, you crazy arse!” you squeal as he lowers you back to the floor, beckoning over the guy he had been sitting with at the bar.

“Trace, there’s someone I want ya to meet,” he says, backhanding the other guy in the stomach. “This is Romeo, he’s our Mex-“

“Don’t say it,” growls Romeo, elbowing Murphy out of the way.

Murphy chuckles and steps aside.

 “Tracy, I’m honored to make your acquaintance,” he says, with a slight bow, making Murphy roll his eyes behind him.  “Let me tell you that your man, Connor, talked about you the whole way here and I can swear to you on my life that he was faithful to you the whole time.”

“Rome, we were on a boat full of big-arsed, hairy-balled men the whole way here,” chimes in Murphy.

“And I’m sayin’ he was faithful the whole trip,” replies Romeo, giving Murphy a hard stare.

You can’t help but smile at the pair of them but what you really want to know is where your man is. At that moment Connor appears from behind the bar, eyes locking instantly with yours, his face lighting up at first with a wide smile and then darkening to a scowl as he drops the beer crate he was carrying to the floor with a crash. Murphy looks from his brother to you and back again, then grabs Romeo by the scruff of the neck and drags him away from the bar.

“I think we need to give our two love-birds here a little space,” he says.

Silently, Connor beckons you behind the bar and you follow him into the back room there, every nerve in your body jangling and on edge. You drops your bags to the floor, uncertain as to if you should move to touch him or not, every part of your body screaming to be in his arms but the look on his face holding you nervously in place. He makes the decision for you, crossing the space between you in two strides and wrapping you into his embrace to crush you against his chest, his face buried in your hair. His heartbeat is thundering in your ear, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your cheek and you lay your palm flat against him, wanting to calm him a little before you look up to meet his gaze. His hands brush over your face, stroking softly at your skin as his eyes seem to devour your features then he gives a half smile and dips his head to kiss you, drawing you closer as his tongue parts your lips and tastes yours.

“Why are you here?” he sighs, eventually breaking the kiss and stepping back from you.

“You told me not to wait for you, you didn’t say anything about me coming after you!”

“Oh, Tracy-love,” he says, ruefully shaking his head. “I guess I should have known. You’ve never once done as I’ve asked ya in all the time I’ve known ya. But this is different lass.”

He steps forward again to grasp your shoulders in his hands, making sure he has your attention before he continues.

“It’s too dangerous for ya to be here right now. These men, the reason we’re back, they’re ruthless, love, wouldn’t hesitate to use you against me in a second if they found out about ya. They killed a good man in cold blood, a priest, just to send us a message and that’s on our heads, do ye understand? We have to end this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Aye, I understand, Connor,” you tell him, gripping at his forearms, “but I need you to understand something too. I have to be here. Hide me away, keep me under lock and key, I don’t care but I can’t go home until this is finished. One way or the other. I’m not leaving.”

He stares down at you, a nerve working in the underside of his jaw as he mulls over your words before he finally gives a deep sigh and shakes you gently by your shoulders.

“I think you’ll be the death of me one of these days, my love, never mind a bloodthirsty gang of Mafiosa armed to the teeth.”

He leans forward to kiss you once more, just a light brush of his lips across yours but you feel it all the way down your spine. You meant what you said, you’re not leaving him until you know how it ends, for better or worse you have to be here to see it through. You reach up a hand to stroke across the stubble on his cheek, then run your fingers up into his cropped hair, tugging playfully at the roots.

“Besides,” you say with a smile, “I’ve missed your beautiful face. I’d forgotten what you looked like under all that hair.”

“Hey, I thought you liked my beard? You said it was sexy.”

“Well, it was until I realized it was never coming off and I had to wake up to it every morning!”

“Is that right?” he asks in an indignant tone, pulling you to him to tickle at your sides for a minute before bending to pick up your bags. “Come on, ya cheeky wench, let’s go figure out what we’re gonna do with you.”

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

As it turns out, after much back and forth between the pair of you, the simplest solution is staring you right in the face – while the boys are safely hidden away upstairs in Doc’s attic rooms, you’ll stay in his small apartment at the back of the bar. Its close enough to appease Connor’s need to keep an eye on you but just separate enough that it should keep you out of harm’s way should trouble come knocking on the door. Doc welcomes you with open arms, always happy to have somebody new to talk to and soon has you feeling right at home in the tiny bedroom across the hall from his, fussing around you like a mother hen with clean sheets and towels until he’s sure you’re settled. You promise Connor you’ll stay out of the bar when they’re there to avoid any connection between you but the rest of the time you can come and go as you please, Doc introducing you to people as his Great-Niece come to visit for the summer.

You take to the people who frequent the bar instantly, the atmosphere not feeling that much different from being at home and you have to remind yourself a few times that this isn’t a vacation or your new life, that the reason you’re here is the life or death of the man you love. You and Connor grab stolen moments when you can but you know his mind is focused on Murphy and what they have to do, you can see the change in him, the lines etching his face more deeply than ever and an intense concentration burning beneath his surface that you’ve never really witnessed before. You’re almost ashamed of the way it makes you feel when you are together, how feeding off of his hyper-aware energy turns you on like he never has before. It’s all you can do to keep your hands off of him every time you see him but you know he needs to concentrate on his job at hand, that you can’t be clouding his mind and his judgment with thoughts of the two of you so you bide your time, hoping and praying for an end to this madness sooner rather than later.

Connor makes sure that you have no knowledge of their plans but you can tell something is building from the way the three of them are acting and you know they’ve been meeting with others at night once the bar is closed. You’re getting more and more anxious, the tension between you and Connor almost palpable as he comes to you one evening and without telling you any specifics, you know that this is it, the event they’ve been scheming for. He paces your tiny room like a caged animal, starting to talk a dozen times and then stopping himself before the words come out until finally he just takes you in his arms and kisses you like there might not be a tomorrow then turns and walks out leaving you with his taste on his lips and unshed tears burning in your eyes. You curl up on the narrow bed, refusing to let yourself cry, wondering how long you’ll have to wait before you know he’s safe, your mind churning endlessly with memories of all the years you’ve shared together, the life you’ve built yourselves in Ireland.

A sound out in the hallway, the scuffing of heavy boots on the worn linoleum, brings you back to yourself and you glance at the clock, shocked to see it’s been hours since Connor left. Your heart is a hard lump in your chest and you’re frozen in place as the handle to your room turns and the door is quietly opened. Relief washes through your body like a molten wave as Connor steps into the room, your extremities turning to liquid, your vocal chords unable to form the words you want to say. Within seconds he’s toed off his boots, kicking them aside and shrugged out of his black coat, letting it drop to the floor as he crosses the room to sit on the bed, pulling you onto his lap as he buries his hands in your hair and attacks your mouth with a red hot kiss. You straddle his thighs, pushing yourself into him, wanting to feel him with every inch of your body, to know that he’s real and he’s come back to you, clinging to his neck and back, devouring his mouth with yours.

With a grunt of frustration, you separate your lips from his, needing his naked flesh against yours, wanting to feel him inside you. You sit back on his lap, meeting his eyes as you peel your nightshirt over your head, his gloved hands sliding along your thighs sending a jolt to your core. You look down, realizing with a little start that he has two guns strapped tight to his thighs and you slide backwards off his lap.

“Oh shit, Tracy-love, I’m sorry,” he stammers, his eyes following your line of sight, “I just had to get back to ya, I didn’t mean to bring these in here. Forgive me.”

Bending over, you take his face in your hands, kissing him softly before straightening up and holding out a hand to pull him up from the bed to stand in front of you. Tugging on the front of the long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing, you work it up his chest until he takes the edges and pulls it over his head, his rosary bouncing against his chest. You scratch your nails lightly over his chest, bumping through the hair and following the trail down his abdomen to the top of his jeans. With a deft move, you unbuckle his belt and loosen it before popping the button on his jeans and easing down his zipper. He moans as you slide your hand inside, nails scraping a little on his sensitive skin as you seek to wrap your fingers around his already leaking cock. You give him a few small tugs, watching as his nostrils flare a little and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip then you pull out, wriggling his jeans down until they stop against the straps on his thighs and you can take his length properly in hand.

You stroke him firmly, teasing his slit with your thumb so that he twitches in your grip then with a flick of your hair you bend your head to lick a broad stripe up the underside of his shaft, paying special attention to each of the veins that are popping out on the way. With the taste of him fresh in your mouth, you straighten up to grab the back of his neck, thrusting your tongue between his lips as you back against the wall, pulling him after you. As you slam into the cool plaster surface, he reaches down to grab your thighs, hoisting your legs up to wrap around his waist and guiding himself into your wet, aching pussy. You give a tiny scream as he fills you, thrusting hard against you and his hand whips up to cover your mouth, the warm smell of leather tickling your nostrils and turning you on even more. You lock your ankles behind his back, leveraging your back against the wall and hold onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh and making him hiss a little under his breath. He removes his hand from your mouth and brings his other one up to massage at your breasts, the soft glide of leather over your skin sending ripples of pleasure out from his touch.

He takes your mouth with another rough kiss then trails his lips along your jaw and down to the base of your throat where he sucks your sensitive skin between his lips and you clutch at his head, pulling on his hair as you gasp and moan.

“Connor,” you breathe out against him in time with his thrusts into you, “Connor, Connor, Connor.”

With almost a growl, he suddenly pumps harder into you, his hands gripping at your ass until he gives a low moan and comes inside you, his hips rolling against you as you ride out his orgasm, clinging to him until he’s done, his face buried in your neck. As his movements still, he raises his head, a grin splitting his face as he tilts his head to kiss you once more, softer this time, his tongue stroking against yours in a way that makes your senses tingle and you feel him bring a hand around to nudge between you and find its way to your clit. He begins a slow caress at first, the leather of his glove soon slicked with your wetness as he moves increasingly faster, rolling your swollen nub back and forth until he finds just the right spot and you spasm around him, bucking your hips up and pushing his semi-hard cock from you with the force of your contractions. He keeps working you until he’s dragged every last shudder from your body, kissing you over and over between a litany of soothing words, whispered against your lips.

Gently pulling you away from the wall, he carries you to the bed, untangling your legs from his waist to lay you down and then stripping out of his jeans after carefully removing his guns and laying them on the chair by the bed. Climbing into the too-small bed with you, he wraps around you, pulling you into his chest as he softly caresses your skin.

“I knew you’d come back,” you say quietly once you can find your voice again.

“Yeah? I wasn’t so sure myself at one point.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” you ask, raising yourself up to look at him, guilt tearing at your insides that you didn’t think to ask him that the second you saw him.

“No, I’m fine,” he replies, pulling you back down. “I swear. Murph and Romeo too before you ask. But that’s the last time I’m jumping off any fuckin’ buildings, I’m telling ya. Damn near crapped me pants.”

You sit up again, staring down at him, knowing your mouth is open but powerless to close it.

“What now? You jumped off a what?”

Connor chuckles and sits up beside you, taking your face between his hands and kissing your nose and forehead.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, Tracy-love. It’s all over now.”

Not convinced in the slightest, you lay back down and he curls back up beside you, holding you until you slip into a satisfied sleep.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

It barely seems a minute later that he’s waking you as he climbs from the bed but a glance at the clock tells you you’ve been sleeping for a couple of hours.

“Where are you going?” you ask sleepily.

“Just through to the bar, love, I won’t be far. I’m still too wired to sleep and I think I hear the lads wandering around out there. I’ll be back in a bit. Go to sleep.”

He leans over to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, then pulls on his jeans and shirt, stopping to blow you a kiss from the doorway as he goes out, leaving you smiling like a fool as you fall back asleep.

You’re jerked from your slumber once more by what sounds like all hell breaking loose. You’ve lived in the country long enough to know the sound of gunfire when you hear it but you’ve never heard as much as this before. You jump from the bed, pulling on your clothes, your mind racing as to what to do. Connor has drilled it into you that you’re to stay put if you ever hear trouble at the bar, that he’ll come to you when it’s safe to do so and, as much as it pains you to sit still feeling like a helpless damsel, you know that he’s right. You glance at his guns, still laying as he left them on the chair and for a split second you consider taking them up and going to find him but then you tell yourself that you’re crazy, you have no idea how to handle a weapon like that.

The barrage of gunfire and raised voices from the bar suddenly ceases and you take a step towards the door then change your mind. A short while later a single shot rings out and then nothing more. You start pacing the room, almost frantic with worry and indecision, when the door bangs open and suddenly Connor is there, rushing in to wrap around you, his hands flying over your torso as he reassures himself you’re safe. You look up at his face and see his jaw is clenched, his mouth set in a grim line and there’s a dark shadow in his normally clear eyes that scares you maybe just a little. With no other explanation, he informs you that everybody is fine but you can see the lie in his eyes and you wonder who he lost, a friend, somebody you had yet to meet. He tells you to stay put, that Doc will come find you when everything is taken care of and that he has to leave once more, that this will be the last time he swears.

This time he goes without even a kiss goodbye and you know the truth of his words when he says he’ll never leave you again because he doesn’t expect to be coming back to you. Sinking onto the bed, you wrap yourself in the sheets that are still full of his scent and offer up pleas and prayers to anyone who might be listening. You don’t sleep, waiting once more for the door to open and your world to be right again. When a tentative knock finally comes, however, it’s just Doc and he shakes his head despondently at your unspoken question. He has no news, good or bad and your heart breaks for him as he leads you to the kitchen, his shoulders slumped as if he’s carrying the weight of the world upon them, this is his family being threatened as much as it is yours. You make him take a seat at the table, shushing his protests as you put the kettle on and make tea for both of you. When it’s brewed you sit, side by side, the ancient portable tv on the tabletop tuned to the local news and together you wait in silence.

At long last the story breaks and Doc takes your hand as you watch the details unfold before you, the death count and words like ‘bloodbath’ and ‘Mafia’ not sinking into your brain as you wait for the words you need to hear. When the grim-looking news anchor eventually states that three men, suspected to be the infamous Boondock Saints, have been taken into custody alive you finally allow yourself to cry, a deluge of seemingly endless tears streaming down your face. Doc tries his best to comfort you but he has no idea that you’re not only crying for yourself and the overwhelming relief that Connor is still alive but also for the tiny life growing inside you that hasn’t lost its father before it was even born. With one hand pressed protectively over your stomach, you raise your head and wipe away your tears, looking Doc straight in the eye and asking him the only question you want an answer to.

“How do we get them out of there?”


End file.
